“That was amazing,” Seychelle whispered, as in awe as he was, although he was certain it was the sunset and not the musical notes they shared.
He reached for her hand and brought her palm to his chest as they turned back toward the bikes. “You need to eat something. There’s a great little restaurant a few more miles up the road in Elk, unless you’re getting too cold or uncomfortable.”
Seychelle looked up at him, started to reply but then hesitated.
“It’s good food, Seychelle,” Preacher said.
“We’re not that far from it,” Reaper pointed out.
“The chef is nearly as good as Alena,” Ink added. “Okay, not nearly her caliber, but he’s good. You’ll like it.”
“She’s not used to riding on a motorcycle, and we still have to make it back home,” Savage interjected, running interference, just in case.
“I’m good,” Seychelle said, her free hand rubbing her backside with a rueful little grin. “It’s just that you didn’t get much sleep last night, Savage, and you have to be tired.”
He kept himself from looking at the others, but his heart sank. She’d been more aware than any of them thought the night before. No one outside their club could know about that meeting with the Diamondbacks, especially since everything had gone to hell. They were all concerned that Plank might change his mind and retaliate against Tawny for blowing his deal immediately. It wouldn’t be pretty, and it would be permanent. They had to have alibis that were not only plausible but tight if the Diamondbacks really went through with killing the bitch before the run and blaming her death on Alena.
“Babe. I woke up in your bed, my head in your lap.”
She blushed and avoided looking at the others. “I got so drunk you were up half the night with me sick.”
“I slept during the day with you. I’m good.” Relief swept through him, along with another emotion he wasn’t used to experiencing. She’d been concerned for him. She’d been sick. She had awakened dehydrated with a hell of a headache. She was in an uncertain situation, yet she was expressing concern for him. That was a new one for him. “Let’s get something to eat.”
She nodded and flashed a small smile. “Thank you for that sunset. It was beyond beautiful.” She looked around her. “I’ve never been this far south on this road. I should explore more. I’ve got a good little car for it.”
“Now you’ve got me,” he corrected. He handed her the helmet and waited for her to put it on before he helped her onto the bike. “I love to ride these roads. We can go together.”
“I’d like that.” She smiled at him, one hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t realize how much you could see from the back of a motorcycle.”
Savage watched Seychelle through dinner. He’d purposely had her sit beside Anya so the two women could get to know each other better. The women of Torpedo Ink would become the female companionship she needed, her sisters, the ones she’d never had. He remained quiet. He wasn’t much of a talker, although when they were alone, he seemed to have more to say. He enjoyed watching her have a good time. When she laughed, her entire face lit up. He dropped a hand onto her thigh, because he needed that connection with her. She put her hand over his as if she knew he needed that physical link right at that moment.
Anya, Preacher, Code and Ink carried most of the conversation, but Seychelle joined in, and he liked that she wasn’t the least bit afraid of expressing her opinion, although she was very thoughtful about what she said. She definitely had no problems debating with any of them.
He rubbed his palm up and down her thigh, and then transferred her hand to his thigh. She glanced up at him and smiled. His heart nearly stopped. That smile was his alone. Reserved for him. It felt intimate in a way he’d never experienced before. He tucked stray strands of her thick, gold-and-platinum-colored hair behind her ear and reached for his coffee cup with his free hand.
Her palm burned a brand through his jeans. Marking him. He loved her so fucking much, and that was unexpected and took getting used to. She leaned in close and put her mouth against his ear. Now his heart reacted by pounding. Accelerating.
“I can make an excuse to leave if you need to get out of here.” Her lips brushed against his earlobe with every word, a soft, velvety caress that sent fingers of desire dancing up his thighs and down his spine. “You have a headache.”
He did. His head was pounding. He knew when they got home, he had to really explain everything. She would either commit or walk out on him. He’d never been so afraid of losing in his life.